


Old Haunts

by checkthemargins



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Implied Unresolved Gay Crisis, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkthemargins/pseuds/checkthemargins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis rolls his eyes and drops his feet onto the floor again, leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Do you wanna lick me out? I showered."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Haunts

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt on Tumblr: "Tomlinshaw when Louis comes home from tour would be diviiiiiine." This fits the bill but is about 1000x more depressing than prompter was probably looking for. I'm sorry anon!

**Old Haunts**

Louis Tomlinson is sat on Nick’s sofa in his pants and a trashy white vest that shows off all his ugly tattoos, holding a cup of tea. His jacket, shoes, socks and jeans are piled in the middle of the floor. Still in his coat and holding his keys, Nick stares at Louis for several seconds, then from him to the door and back again.

"I picked the lock," says Louis, when Nick doesn’t find words fast enough. His speaking voice is always a little startling, higher than Nick ever thinks it’ll sound.

"You picked the lock," Nick echoes.

"Well, you don’t do up the deadbolt, do you?" Louis says, as though that’s a perfect excuse for breaking into someone’s home. He sets his tea down on the coffee table, on a coaster next to a balled up used tissue, which falls off to reveal some sort of cream sauce that’s spilt. Nick looks around for a bowl or take-away container, wondering if Louis brought food with him, but doesn’t see any. When it hits him what it actually is, his eyes snap to Louis again.

"Did you — is that — Did you _jizz_ on my table?”

Louis’s cheeks redden under his scruff but he seems more comfortable now that he’s been caught out. He shrugs carelessly.

"It wasn’t distressed enough." He picks up the crumpled tissue with his toes and drops it back onto the table, heel catching the handle of his tea mug and nearly knocking it over. Nick jerks helplessly, ready to save it — this table is fucking new — and Louis’s little mouth stretches into a mean grin. “It’s got my DNA on it. Worth more now than anything else you own. You should be thanking me.”

Disbelief and anger burgeon a morbid sort of curiosity. What possible train of thought could have led to breaking into Nick’s house, stripping down and having a wank. Isn’t he supposed to be in America? Did he get bored waiting? Or did he come in and drop trou and muck up Nick’s stuff on purpose? “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Louis’s smile sharpens. He flicks his fringe out of his eyes and curls the toes of both feet over the edge of the coffee table, legs spread. Nick sees him once in a blue moon but when he does he sees every bit of him. It’s been almost a year since the last time. Louis’s legs are hairier than Nick remembers them being. Skinnier, too. He’s a pretty boy. Not as pretty as he used to be. His eyes are hooded with age and he’s hardly into his twenties. Stress or self-loathing, probably, he’s chock full of both. It’s been a long time since Nick’s seen him up close.

"A lot, probably," Louis answers, tipping his head back onto the sofa, baring his neck a bit. Nick wants to take a second to get his footing, but Louis’s watching him like a hawk, tension radiating from him no matter how loose a sprawl he forces himself into, and Nick can’t look away. Louis lets out a quiet hum. "We just got back. I used your shower. Water pressure’s shit."

Irritation isn’t quite enough to completely drown out the bemusement, but it distracts from it a bit. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

"I’m always serious," says Louis, pulling a face. Nick doesn’t laugh, or say anything else, or move, really. Louis rolls his eyes and drops his feet onto the floor again, leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Do you wanna lick me out? I showered."

The first time Nick was truly alone with Louis like this was at an after party for the GQ Awards in twenty-eleven, and Louis’s legs had been over Nick’s shoulders and he’d been folded in half while Nick fucked into him. They’d been drunk. It’d been Louis’s first time. It’d been good sex. Nothing ever came of it, because Louis didn’t want to like dick and sober Nick hadn’t liked Louis as much as he wanted to anyway, especially when there’d been Harry, who Nick’d liked more than he’d ever liked anyone. Not much has changed. Louis’s a little less lovely than he once was but still stunning, brittle and difficult and already fattening up in his pants, and Nick’s still drawn to train wrecks like a moth to flame. He answers, “Yeah.”

He drops his keys and wallet onto the coffee table, shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it out over the back of an armchair. He toes his shoes and socks off and gets on his knees between the sofa and the coffee table. Louis’s breathing is uneven and his cheeks red. Nick’s stomach clenches around the sharp burst of heat that swells up in him. Louis jumps when Nick’s cheek touches the inside of his thigh and Nick curls his hands around Louis’s calves. “Gonna get out of those?”

Louis squirms further down on the sofa so his knees bump Nick’s chest. “Take them off me.”

Nick hooks his fingers into the waistband of Louis’s black boxer-briefs and tugs them down artlessly. Louis’s cock springs free and smacks against his flat belly, and Nick tosses his underwear to the floor. When he glances up Louis’s wetting his lips, so hungry for cock the sight of his own gets his mouth watering. Nick shifts on his knees, resituates his cock in his jeans and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Louis’s thigh. Louis swears and opens his legs more, breath hitching when Nick guides one over his shoulder and pushes the other one out wide. He sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin where Louis’s thigh meets his groin until Louis’s breathing in rough gasps and his skin is red from the stubble on Nick’s cheek.

When Nick lifts his eyes again, Louis’s flushed down to the scooped neck of his top and his arms are still folded above his head, fingers of both hands digging into opposite elbows, his mouth wet and his eyes barely open. They close properly when Nick cups Louis’s balls and rubs the pad of his forefinger over the tight furl of Louis’s hole. Louis grunts, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and tightens the bend of his knee over Nick’s shoulder. His cock is wet at the tip, staining his top. Nick pushes the vest up out of the way and slips his hand between Louis’s stomach and his cock and thumbs just under the head. Louis strangles a sound in his throat.

"God, would you just—You’re the one who wanted to do this," he complains, trying to drag Nick in closer with his leg.

"You _broke into my house_ ,” Nick snaps, or tries to. Louis used his shower gel, smells like him, and it’s making Nick stupid, his voice thick and slow. Louis makes another aggravated sound, but Nick ignores it. He fists the head of Louis’s dick and kisses his hip when Louis looses a little moan, mouths over the top of Louis’s thigh and sighs against his skin. Louis’s quiet, but impatient, lifting his hips encouragingly. With one last squeeze and the wet drag of Louis’s cock over his hand, Nick lets him go, resituates Louis’s leg over his shoulder and cups his bum in both hands. He hauls him forward ‘til his arse is off the edge of the sofa and his weight is braced between Nick and the leg still on the cushions. He’s stretched so wide Nick hardly has to hold him open, just buries his face between Louis’s legs and gets right to it.

He drags his tongue from Louis’s balls to his hole, feels his cock twitch in his jeans when Louis gasps, tensing up. Louis tastes like soap for a few seconds, and then just skin. Nick’s barely touched him but a ragged sob wrenches out of Louis’s chest anyway and he tries to shove himself onto Nick’s face. He hates how much he loves it. He’s too tight for Nick to work his tongue in, so he laps over Louis’s hole, licks at him until Louis’s squirming. He pulls back to get his breath and catches Louis with his hand over his mouth, fingers of the other digging into the cushions. His cock looks painfully red and hard, pink at the tip where the head’s pulled his foreskin back, and so wet precome is pooling on his belly. He’s not touching himself, but he’s not going to. He’ll come on Nick’s tongue without being touched; he always does.

Nick kisses the inside of Louis’s knee and up his thigh. He sucks gently on his balls and Louis’s foot kicks helplessly against his back. He whines behind his hand when Nick licks him again, making Nick go hot all over, sweating at his temples and under his arms, cock hurting in his jeans. He squeezes Louis’s arse, gets his hole nice and wet and then dips a thumb between his arsecheeks to massage over the rim. Louis swears, hiccups a quiet sound and slaps his hand against the sofa when Nick presses his thumb inside. Nick hears his fingernails on the linen of the cushion, something he didn’t know could be hot but that gets him even more worked up. Louis’s tight, hasn’t had anything inside him since the last time Nick was, not even his own fingers because he’d never touch himself like this. It’s only ever allowed to be Nick’s fault that he likes having his arse played with.

"Fuck," Louis gasps. His voice sounds wet. "Fuck, will you—"

He cuts himself off and the next second he’s batting Nick’s hands away to replace them with his own, panting as he holds himself open. Nick sinks his teeth into Louis’s thigh and closes his eyes against the sight of him, spreading his arse and his hole shiny with spit and so tight around Nick’s thumb he can’t get more than the very tip in. Louis grunts, then whimpers when he shoves his hips down and more of Nick’s thumb sinks in. Nick grips Louis’s hip hard enough to bruise and leans back in, licks around his thumb and then pulls it out. Louis makes an angry sound that dissolves into another sob when Nick replaces it with the tip of his tongue. Louis’s arsehole clenches down.

Louis’s not a talker — at least not with Nick — but he makes a lot of noise and tries to hold it back every time. Nick’s fucked a lot of people who can talk so dirty they’ve made Nick blush, but nothing is as hot as Louis trying to keep a lid on it, choked cries and shuddery breaths and hiccups, strangled moans that make all the muscles in his abdomen clench, the constant shuffle of his body because he can’t ever keep still. He moans like it hurts and digs his heel into Nick’s back. Nick thumbs soothingly over the hollows of Louis’s hips, closes his mouth over Louis’s hole like a kiss, gentle suction and a lot of tongue, coaxing. Louis’s clawing at the sofa, body held taut as a bowstring, and Nick knows he’s almost there.

Louis always makes Nick work for it, but it’s so fucking good when Louis gives in, when all that tension seems to explode out of him and he goes loose and pliant. Blood is rushing in Nick’s ears as the tight clench of Louis’s hole eases, relaxes enough for Nick to lick into him properly. Fingers tangle weakly into Nick’s hair and Nick digs in as deep as he can, eats Louis out like he’s starving for it. Spit trails down to Louis’s balls and all over Nick’s chin and his jaw starts to ache but he’d rather suffocate with a mouth full of Louis’s arse than stop. Louis’s a wreck, choking out moans he can’t hold back and writhing so much Nick has to hold his hips down. Louis fists Nick’s hair and rides Nick’s tongue, a little rough and a lot needy, and cries out unhappily when Nick’s tongue slides out of him. Nick takes a deep breath, bites at the marks he’s already left on Louis’s thigh and tucks a finger into him. He’s so wet and loose from Nick’s tongue that it goes easy, but he doesn’t expect it, inhales sharply and makes a little ungh sound, shocked and a bit hurt, but he likes that.

"Oh, oh fuck," he breathes. Nick wants to watch his face when he comes, but he wants to get his tongue back inside him more, so he does that instead. He crooks his finger until he finds Louis’s prostate, moans into Louis’s slippery hole when Louis’s back arches. More fingers tangle in Nick’s hair and Louis sobs brokenly, Nick’s name spilling past his lips. Nick drags his fingertip over his spot, over and over, doesn’t stop when Louis pulls on his hair or when Louis goes tight and still all over right before he comes. Nick fucks his tongue in as deep as he can so he can feel it shudder through him, hole clenching tight and tighter and his quiet whimper sending licks of pleasure shivering up Nick’s spine. Nick fucks him through it with his finger, hits his prostate each time, curls his tongue before he draws it out and kisses at Louis’s hole gone red and puffy now, milks his prostate until Louis tugs gently on his hair and tells him to stop.

He eases his grip on Louis’s hips and drags his mouth down his thigh before he lets Louis’s leg slip from his shoulder. Louis’s face is red and wet and he’s got come all over his stomach and chest, some up on his neck from how hard he shot off. He looks boneless and bruised, eyes clearer and mouth tugged down at the corners. He cups his softening dick and winces, jerks himself a couple times and whimpers at the hurt.

"Shit," Nick bites out. He tears his jeans open and shoves his hand into his pants, good feeling tingling all the way to his fingertips and toes as he pumps his cock. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead on Louis’s knee, breathes open-mouthed and hot over his skin. He wants Louis to make him stop, to slide off the sofa and get Nick off with his mouth or his hand or fuck, just rub his wet belly all over Nick’s cock ‘til Nick slicks him up even more. He won’t, never does, but the thought is enough to make Nick come so hard his vision whites out anyway.

It takes him a few seconds to come back to himself. When he does he sits back on his heels and wipes his hand on the leg of his jeans. “You’ve got no manners at all, you know that? A little reciprocation would go a long way.”

Louis snorts. “Don’t want to go a long way with you, mate.”

He looks smaller than he did just a few minutes ago. His dick is soft between his legs and he looks washed out, lines defined at the corners of his eyes. He’s usually gone before Nick’s even caught his breath, but he hasn’t made any move to put his pants back on. He hasn’t moved at all, actually. It takes Nick a moment to realize that Louis’s trembling.

If Nick opens his mouth, he’ll fuck it up. Experimentally, he slides his hands up the sides of Louis’s calves, and when Louis doesn’t do anything but swallow visibly and look away, Nick frames his hips in his hands and tugs.

Louis comes down easily, spreads his knees on either side of Nick’s and settles on his lap. Nick presses his closed mouth to the side of Louis’s neck and Louis’s arms slide round his shoulders, scruff on his chin scratching Nick’s cheekbone. He sighs gently when Nick slips his hands and forearms underneath Louis’s stupid top. Holding him is awkward, and Louis’s breathing is steady but he might be crying. Nick rubs his back.

"D’you want to stay here tonight?" he asks.

"No," says Louis.

"You can," Nick tells him. "I don’t mind."

Louis laughs breathily. “Look like I give a fuck what you mind?”

Point. He did, after all, break into Nick’s house and rub his dick all over Nick’s furniture.

He won’t stay the night, but he lets Nick hold him a little longer, and Nick doesn’t try to keep him when Louis pulls away. He hands Louis his pants and watches him pull them on, and then his jeans. Louis shoves his feet into his shoes and his arms one at a time into the sleeves of his hoodie. He grazes his fingers over the back of Nick’s neck on his way past him to the door - the most intimate touch Nick’s received from him since their first time - and he leaves without another word.

**end**


End file.
